Chryed Business
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: as usual.


_**Just a little one, written very quickly, but I hope you enjoy. :) xxxx**_

* * *

"Aaargh!"

Stretched out on the sofa, Christian looked up from his magazine, distracted from appreciating pictures of male divers, caught poised in the air, turning gracefully in skimpy trunks, and glanced over to Syed. Slumped over his laptop at the dining table, he seemed to be in the process of pulling out his own hair.

"What's up babe?"

Syed savagely stabbed at the enter key and waited for a document to load. Without turning round, he groaned,

"I'm brainstorming business ideas, doing proposals, profits and losses. All I get is losses, or crippling overheads. And I keep coming up with truly rubbish ideas."

"I'm sure you don't! Run some of them by me." Christian deep voice and loving attempt at encouragement went a little way to making Syed feel slightly less wretched and he shifted in his chair to face him.

"Only if you don't take the piss."

"Moi?" Christian arched his eyebrows and widened his eyes, a picture of innocence. "As if I would. Go on."

"A childrenswear line. Clothing and toys… I've got the suppliers in place for that, and there's billions of babies and children around here."

"Excellent idea!" Christian licked his thumb and turned a page, moving it closer to his face to get a better look. "Do that then."

"I can't make it cheap enough to compete with the supermarkets. And it needs a feature, a unique selling point to set it apart. A character maybe. All the animals seem to be covered already and my mind's gone blank. I've got Ottoline the Ocelot on a loop, and if I get charged per letter…"

"Bob the Bee? Ben the Bat? Cack the Cat?"

Syed glowered at Christian's suggestions and began to tear at the corner of one of his print outs, ripping a neat line through the word 'projected'.

"Helpful."

"I still don't know why you don't go back to the salon. You liked it there before Tanya got ill, and she's better now."

"With Poppy wittering nonsense and spotty sweaty backs? Not to mention Kim's pneumatic bosoms bobbing in every five seconds…My massaging skills are for purely personal services nowadays."

Expectantly, Christian stretched his neck muscles and smiled winsomely.

"That's nice to hear. I seem to be terribly tense. I can pay!"

"Hmm. That sort of payment won't deal with the rent. Later, if you're good. What am I going to do Christian?"

Christian swung his legs from the sofa and closed the magazine. He studied Syed's troubled expression, saw his beautiful eyes soft and disconsolate, his furrowed brow, and tried to think of something to alleviate his stress.

"Couldn't you get a new job? Preferably involving a uniform."

Syed snorted and lobbed a strip of paper in his direction.

"Like what? Traffic warden? I could work with Fatboy at McKlunky's. Or with mum at the MinuteMart. Thanks a bunch, Christian. I've got ambitions you know." He huffily turned his back on Christian and glared at the screen.

Smiling fondly, Christian realised, from the angry set of Syed's shoulders that he was failing miserably at providing enough support.

"You'd look sexy in a maroon tabard. I was actually thinking Fireman, Paramedic, Pilot… Or Household Cavalry…"

"I'm not getting on a fucking horse again. Be serious Christian. This is for our future. It's not fair that you're the only one making money."

On the point of declaring that he didn't mind, that Syed could stay in bed all day eating grapes as long as he was happy, and they were together, Christian stopped himself, remembering that Syed had his pride and the ever-present burden of needing to prove himself to his family that constantly weighed him down.

"Could you get in with Janine somehow? Property used to be your thing. Insinuate yourself and take over from the inside."

"I get on with Janine alright but I'm sure her lizardy Michael would notice. He's twisted that one, I doubt I've got the Machiavellian skills to compete." Syed snapped down the lid of the laptop and stared gloomily into space. "Besides, I'd sooner eat my own head than go into property again."

"You can't. It's only two o'clock. Sy…"

Christian slapped his knees, stood and crossed over to Syed. Placing his hands under his armpits, he pulled him upright, bundled his unprotesting, dejected form to the sofa and plonked him down. Sitting beside him, he pressed him against his chest and tenderly stroked the soft skin on the nape of his neck.

"…Whatever you decide to do, I'm with you. It'll be a huge success. You'll see."

"Will I?" Unconvinced, Syed nestled closer and sighed, listening to the slow, steady beat of Christian's heart.

"Trust me. You're clever, resourceful, go getting, fit as fuck. How about resurrecting Masala Queen?"

"I think my mother might have a few words to say about that, it would impinge on their trade. None of the old clients would use us anyway. What with most of them thinking I'm an abomination."

"Sod them. The only thing abominable was those hats, which I suppose is reason enough not to. I miss it though." Suddenly thoughtful, Christian studied Syed's elegant fingers, lying across his thigh. "Did I spoil it for you? All those plans you spoke of. Did I stop you making something of yourself?"

"Hey! Where's that come from? You made me myself, truly myself, idiot. We need to go forward. We shouldn't be paying rent on this place; we should have our own house, a garden for Yas. As it is, I struggle to find the money for Amira's maintenance."

Christian sniffed and said scathingly.

"And she's nothing if not high maintenance. How about weddings? They're big business nowadays. Party supplies, hen nights, stag do's…"

"L plates and chocolate willies?" Syed shuddered. "I'd rather not. I don't know why people want all that fuss."

Mentally scaling down his guest list and packing the ice sculpture back to the freezer, Christian glumly flexed his foot, easing the cramp that niggled at his calf.

"I'm stumped." He admitted, wishing he could be of more help, hit on the solution to solve all Syed's worries.

"You and me both. I've got to find a gap in the market. The only things I can think of are cabs or cleaning."

"Sy's Skoda's! Masood's Mops!"

"Ha! I want elite in the title, or executive, luxury, nobby…" Syed's laughter subsided quickly and he frowned. "…You need capital for cars, vans, equipment. Having to sell all my stock at a loss has ballsed that up."

"You're good with the bank aren't you? We've still got some savings from Gran Canaria." Christian parked the live band away with the ice sculpture, and struck by a concern that made his stomach lurch, took Syed's chin in his hand, turning his face up towards his own, looking deep into his eyes. "You won't be tempted to go to anyone iffy for backing, will you? No high interest loans from Janine or dodgy deals with Derek?"

"No!" Catching the brief sideways dart of Syed's gaze, Christian gave him a little shake and asked again, firmly.

"Promise?"

"Promise. Remember, interest is forbidden for me. Everything above board, hard graft and enterprise."

"Then I'm behind you all the way."

Syed's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"All the way?"

"We can take turns. Speaking of business, I've got some you could attend to. In my pants. Might spark off a few ideas"

Melting under the pressure of Christian's lips against his own, Syed felt comforted, warmed, as if anything were possible and he could rule the world. Breaking away, with a dip of his long eyelashes, he murmured, "I'm not starting an escort agency." and led Christian to the bedroom.


End file.
